


Soft and Slow

by orphan_account



Category: Ed Edd n Eddy
Genre: M/M, abusive/controlling relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1533944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kevedd. Edd gets involved with Eddy's brother, but with Kevin's help he finds his freedom again. Rated M for language, some sexual content, and abusive/controlling relationship material.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft and Slow

He was so kind in the beginning. But, then again, I suppose they always are.

It started late one afternoon, the summer before our junior year of high school. Ed, loveable oaf that he was, had rolled off of the couch in a fit of laughter, using an unfortunate Eddy to break his fall. Irate, screaming in that hoarse way of his, Eddy leapt to his feet and gave chase.

If they’d exited through Eddy’s front door, I might have had some semblance of warning. Perhaps I could have been spared entirely. Alas, Lady Luck was not with me that day, and my friends took the door in the kitchen out to wrestle in the backyard. When the front door did open a few short minutes later, I foolishly assumed it was Eddy’s mother, a face with which I am well acquainted. I continued to watch the movie, an old black and white alien invasion film we’d viewed on several occasions, until I felt a hand at the back of my neck. I twisted, fully intent on giving the inconsiderate individual who had invaded my personal space the scolding of a lifetime, but there he was.

Eddy’s brother.

After an understandable flurry of protests and arguments--it was, after all, the first time we’d seen him since the trailer park incident--I was rushed from Eddy’s house and back to my own. Our beloved schemer ranted for an impressive forty-three minutes before Ed could calm him down with quickly-denied offers of group hugs. We watched television for a short while, but soon the shock and bewilderment wore off and tiredness took their place. Much to Sarah’s displeasure, Ed received permission to have Eddy spend the night, and the two left just in time for me to enjoy a nice cup of blueberry vanilla tea before heading up to bed. I did just that, and when I stepped into the comforting familiarity of my bedroom, I thought for certain that I could put the entire event behind me and never think of it again. Surely Eddy’s brother wouldn’t be staying for long. We would simply have to exclude his house from the rotation until he left. I paused at the desk to empty my pockets of their belongings before changing into my night attire, and it was then I discovered that somewhere in all the commotion Eddy’s brother had deposited a slip of paper into my back pocket, presumably when his hand had dived in for a grope of my posterior in what I had assumed to be an unapologetic display of harassment.

In simple and surprisingly neat handwriting, it read, “Looking good, Princess. Call me.”

A number was listed beneath that, and I stared at it for several long minutes. An unfamiliar sensation was twisting my stomach into knots, and before I could even register what was occurring, my fingers were pressing the number and a brief greeting into my cell phone. I sent the message, and the realization that I had just contacted Eddy’s brother simply because I’d been told to hit me like a veritable ton of bricks. My phone dropped to the desk with a clatter. I backed away from it as if it were a ticking bomb. If only I could have called the message back, reversed time somehow. Anything to prevent the events that I had inevitably set into motion.

When he replied, it took me nearly ten minutes to muster the courage to retrieve my phone and read the words displayed on it.

[didn’t think you’d actually text me, cutie.]

I had absolutely no response for that. What on earth was I expected to say? I wracked my brain for something, and it struck me mid-thought that I had been granted a second chance. This was my way out. I could choose to simply not reply. Eddy’s brother would leave soon and I wouldn’t have to interact with him a single moment longer. However, my hesitance must have seemed like a sort of challenge to the older man, because a few seconds later I received a second message.

[it’s terry. eddy’s bro. pretty sure this is double d because idk anyone else who would say salutations in a text. am i right?]

Yes, of course he was right, and he was well aware of it. I took the bait, and he began the careful work of reeling me in. We exchanged texts on and off for nearly a month before the day the vibrations from my phone indicated a call instead of a simple message. A call became calls, hours of chatting, always late at night so that Eddy wouldn’t find out.

“Not until we’re ready, Princess,” he’d coo into the receiver. That should have been my first clue. Keeping secrets, building walls, isolating ourselves. It all screamed of trouble, but he was so very convincing. “He wouldn’t understand,” he said, and I knew it was true. Eddy is my best friend. Of course he wouldn’t understand, and for good reason. Yet I allowed him to convince me that my dear comrade was the villain here. Never before had I kept something from Eddy, not something significant like this, and where guilt should have eaten at me instead I felt a sort of giddy thrill. It was exciting, in its way.

We began seeing each other, either out around town or at my house, always in the darker hours of the evening, never where we could be found by my two dear friends. We would rent a movie and sit close together on my couch or visit the secluded corners of the park, and it wasn’t long at all before his hands were finding their way into places they oughtn’t. The first night he touched me was the first night he said he loved me.

“I just wanna show you how much you mean to me, Princess,” he said, and though an alarm sounded in my mind and my instincts urged me to run, my trusting nature betrayed me. My curiosity got the best of me, and my moment’s hesitation was all the consent he needed to bring me to climax.

When I returned home, I scrubbed myself raw.

I was disgusted with myself. Utterly disgusted. I vowed it wouldn’t happen again. I put my phone on silent, ignored the doorbell when it rang. If it was my friends, they would simply walk in, and they did on several occasions. I wanted nothing more to do with Terry. I shouldn’t have let him into my life in the first place. _No more_ , I promised myself.

I lasted four days.

As awful as it was, as terrible as it made me feel, when he crawled through my window at three in the morning a few nights later I couldn’t bring myself to say no. Not when he asked with such sincerity what he’d done wrong. Not when he apologized, professed his love again, requested to stay the night with his fingers in the hair at the back of my neck.

Not when he whispered that I was his and his hands tightened their hold on me possessively.

I felt then that there might be a threatening undertone to his words and actions, but I had no evidence. I was not even fully convinced of it myself. Was I simply being paranoid? But slowly, over several months, I began to piece together the whole and frightening picture. It was there in the way he gripped my hand just a bit too hard when I caught the eye of some passerby, the increasing frequency with which he took me intimately, the hundreds of text messages I received each day.

[i love you.]

[where are you?]

[don’t forget you’re mine.]

[who was that asshole you were walking with after school?]

[My science project partner.]

[i don’t like him.]

[No, of course you don’t.]

[what the hell is that supposed to mean?]

[Nothing, Terry. Forget it.]

[when are you coming home?]

[Later. I’m out with Eddy.]

[pipsqueak? the fuck for?]

[He’s my friend. We’re just hanging out.]

[you’re picking my bro over me?]

[you’re fucking him, aren’t you.]

[What? That is preposterous! I am doing no such thing, and I resent the implications of that accusation.]

[don’t lie to me, princess. i can tell when you’re lying.]

[I’m not lying. I swear it.]

[then why are you holding his hand?]

[Because he is my closest friend.]

[…How did you know that?]

[Did you follow us?!]

[Oh, my god. This is unbelievable.]

[get in the car.]

[I will not! I am on a harmless outing with my best friend, and I intend to finish it!]

[If you don’t want Eddy to become suspicious, I highly suggest you leave. Now.]

[i’ll be waiting when you get home.]

We fought that night, screaming, throwing things, but he never struck me. I guess I can say that in his favor. Never once did he hit me. Of course, that’s not to say that he never left his mark. He left plenty. Dark spots sucked into the skin of my shoulders, across my chest. Long, red welts in lines across my back. Physically marking what was his, brands that I wasn’t allowed to place on him. Our fight ended with whispered apologies and the liberal applications of such marks, and when I was sure he was asleep I untangled myself from him and dressed in jeans and a loose hoodie. Sliding my shoes on at the door, I quietly let myself out and made my way to the park, found a seat on one of the two unbroken swings, and allowed my shoulders to sag with the weight of my pain. The chill winter air quickly permeated my inadequate clothing, and even as I shook with cold I couldn’t find it in me to care. My upper arms throbbed with bruises in the shape of Terry’s hands, my throat stung from shouting, and my eyes burned with tears that I finally let myself shed.

That’s when you found me.

You, with your ridiculous hat--though, who am I to judge on matters of headwear?--and your freckled shoulders, huffing and puffing to a stop in front of me. You removed one headphone from your ear, rolling the bud between your fingers as you looked me over with an expression of vague concern, and said, “What’s up, Double Dork?”

“Nothing, Kevin,” I replied, drawing the sleeve of my jacket across my eyes. “I’m quite alright.”

For obvious reasons, you didn’t believe me. For less obvious reasons, you stayed. You took the seat next to me, hooking your arms around the chains of the swing and leaning back to catch your breath. You let me cry and didn’t tease, but you didn’t pretend you couldn’t hear it either. When it got worse, you reached across to rub my shoulder. It was an awkward gesture, yes, but a sincere one, and it did much to calm me. When I’d had my fill and settled down to mere sniffles, you caught the chain of my swing in one hand and pulled until you could wrap the same hand around the chain of your own, holding us together.

“You done?” you asked quietly. I could see the strain in your arm, the subtle outlines of muscle under your skin. I nodded. “Good. Now tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t,” I replied, and you accepted it without pressing the matter. When I changed the subject, you let me. “What are you doing out so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run. Helps clear my mind, you know?” You looked me up and down and smirked. “Well, maybe you don’t.”

I slapped your arm in offense, and thus began our unlikely friendship. You found me in the hallway the next day at school, and every day after that, to walk with me to our shared classes, and so passed our junior year. I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that your interest in the beginning was merely that of a concerned childhood acquaintance, but somewhere along the line, things changed. Feelings shifted. Walking me to class ceased to seem like a duty but rather something you genuinely enjoyed. Lunch period no longer divided us according to social status; you, along with Rolf and Nazz, ate with us more days than not. Study sessions transitioned almost seamlessly into movie nights, and you sat closer and closer to me on the couch until the day finally came, the first day of summer break, that you smoothly slid your arm around me. The gesture was casual in execution, but the meaning was heavy.

For you, it meant an admission of emotion, a confession of sorts, a commitment.

For me, it meant something far more terrifying. It meant the sudden realization my heart was unfaithful, something I never thought I would or even could be. It meant there would have to be a change between me and Terry, and that was something that would surely come with consequences.

I was afraid.

I pushed you away, offered a stammered excuse, asked you to leave. You refused, demanding an explanation. I shouted that I didn’t have one.

“It’s just an arm around your shoulder, what’s the big deal?”

But it wasn’t just an arm around my shoulder. Oh, god, if only it could have been that simple. Panic welled up inside of me. I had no experience with any of this, no book I could read to help me resolve the situation. I did not even have my best friend to talk to about it, so scared was I of how Eddy would react when he heard of my relationship with his brother. Leaving you to show yourself to the door, I fled to my room, curled up on my bed, and pressed my hands to my ears, fighting to compose myself until finally I cried myself to sleep.

The next day you acted as if nothing had happened, and I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful. Our after-school activities became further spread out, less frequent, as my guilt drove me to spending all the free time I could spare with Terry. It was a desperate attempt to reassure myself of my original feelings for the man while at the same time putting distance between me and you.

It didn’t help.

If anything, it convinced me of the opposite. I began to see your face when I was intimate with Terry. On more than one occasion, it was your name that I barely managed to keep from escaping my lips. It was dangerous. I came to the understanding that I was playing with fire. I didn’t know for sure how Terry would respond if he was to discover my disloyalty, but I did know it wasn’t something to look forward to. It was likely to be painful, both emotionally and physically. I feared he would become violent, force his will on me, or even worse, take his anger out on you. Even more so, I was afraid that I’d ruined my chances with you. Why would you give me a second chance after my blatant rejection? Yet I felt strongly that you would, so despite my many fears, I finally resolved to follow my heart and allow myself to explore the feelings I had unintentionally developed for you.

I again found myself facing a dilemma. How was I to distance myself from a man that just weeks ago I had made an effort to cling to? He was sure to notice, sure to ask questions, sure to poke his nose into matters I would rather keep covered. My answer came in the form of an ad on the PCHS email bulletin that I am still certain only I actually read. The football team, your football team, asking for applicants interested in the position of team manager. Summer training would begin a month before school began again, just over a week from the day I received the email. The job involved note-taking, uniform upkeep, and attendance of all practices and games. Essentially I would act as an assistant to the coach. Generally the position was taken up by one of the girls who didn’t make the cheer squad, but my reputation as an outstanding student would make me a shoe-in. I could kill two birds with one stone: give Terry a believable reason to spend my free time at the school and give myself an acceptable reason to spend that free time around you.

As expected, Terry was less than pleased.

“You don’t even like football,” he accused, regarding me suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, his beer can paused halfway to his lips.

“Not particularly, no,” I replied, trying to sound pleasant. “My college advisor wanted me to find an extracurricular that wasn’t academic, and this seemed the simplest choice. It won’t require me to actually play, you see.”

“Mmm.” He grunted, shifting his gaze back to the television. I let out a silent sigh of relief, until his hand tightened its grip, fingers digging into my shoulder. He pulled me closer, tucked me securely under his arm, and let his hand begin its descent toward my waist. “Well, I guess I can give you up for that long. Means I’ll get to go to the games and shit. We can celebrate your wins, if you catch my drift.”

My stomach twisted into an uncomfortable knot, but I smiled thinly. “Of course,” I replied, but my voice sounded hollow to my own ears.

I turned my attention to the television program, eyes unfocused but staring, hoping Terry would do the same. As usual, luck was not on my side. My choice of extracurricular activity had planted a seed of suspicion, of doubt, and as he pushed me back into the couch I knew I would have to pay for it. His hands were rough as they pulled the clothes from my body, teeth harsh against my skin. He set my ankles over his shoulders, lifted my hips with a grip that would surely bruise, jeans pooled around his knees as he positioned himself on the couch. He thrust into me, and when I cried out he did it again, and again, and again. When the tears came, he yanked my hat down over my eyes and set his hand to the side of my face, shoving his thumb into my mouth to press threateningly on my tongue. I gagged. Finding small comfort in counting my breaths, slowing them down and dragging them out, I was able to cease my weeping. Once I had, he withdrew his hand and patted me sharply on the cheek.

“Good boy,” he huffed, and it made me feel so degraded, as if I were nothing more than a pet, a belonging to be trained.

Terry bent over me to bite hard at my skin in a trail from my naval to my neck. _You belong to me_ , each blooming mark seemed to say, and the sting of pain added a frightening edge to the assertion. To say I was scared would not do it justice. I was terrified. If this was how he acted if he simply suspected that something was amiss, what sort of punishment would I earn myself when I told him it was over?

When he was close, his movements increased in intensity, and he leaned forward to bite at my ear and whisper, “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-You,” I mumbled.

He sat back up to grip my hips, pulling me down to meet him. “Say it louder.”

I complied as best I could. “You.”

“Louder!” His hand closed around my throat, not hard enough to do any damage, but absolutely hard enough that I received the message.

“You! I’m yours!” I shouted, a panicky current to my voice.

With a grunt and a final drive, he emptied himself inside me. His hips stuttered as the waves of climax washed over him, but the instant it was over he removed himself from me and adjusted his clothing. He sat back, reaching for his beer again, eyes trained on the television set, and left me lying in his filth and my shame. As my breathing slowed, I felt tears pricking at my eyes again. Terry glanced at me and then away again.

“Clean yourself up,” he said quietly, and the dismissal in his voice was the final straw.

I fled to the upstairs bathroom and locked myself inside, hot emotion running down my cheeks. I was afraid, humiliated, disgusted with myself, but above all else I was angry, angrier than I had ever been before. I stepped into the tub and turned the shower on, twisting the knob harshly. The startling spray of ice water quickly became white hot, scalding my skin, but I didn’t care. When I realized that I’d failed to remove my hat, now soggy with water and weighing my head down, I threw it to the floor. Terry used that hat to hide my face. It was an accomplice to his crimes. I had half a mind to throw it into the garbage bin, but of course I wouldn’t do any such thing. Instead, I kicked it away from me, dropped to a crouch, and with my arms wrapped around my frame, shivering despite the heat, I let shuddering sobs tear from my body. I was sick with rage, nausea rolling up in the back of my throat, and as I retched, any guilt or regret I might have been feeling dissipated. Never again would I allow Terry to make me feel the way I felt now. I was resolved, determined, and with that determination I found a sliver of peace. It lodged in my chest, quelled my fury, and after scrubbing my body a splotchy red, I retired to my room to dress.

And sneak out through my window.

It was ironic, I thought to myself, that I was fleeing my own home to get away from my problems, yet I never once looked back. Without a second thought, I found myself outside your door ringing the bell. You answered in a pair of shorts and your hat, a wide grin on your lips, a grin that faded as your eyes met my own. I lifted my shoulders by way of apology and without another word you took my arm and pulled me into your living room.

“I’m playing video games with a few friends, but you can watch if you want,” you said, motioning toward the couch and retrieving your headset. You watched with a nod of approval as I took a hesitant seat on the end of the couch, and when you joined me you left few inches between us. “Hey, guys, I’m back. Yeah, sorry. Huh? Nah, he’s in the bathroom. He’ll be back soon. Let’s keep going.”

The question of who ‘he’ was only briefly passed through my mind, for a few short moments later Rolf emerged from the bathroom rubbing his hands together.

“Kevin! Do not think that because you went on without Rolf that I will not continue to annihilate y--oh, hello, Ed-boy. Have you come to participate in the righteous slaughter of Team Blue?”

“You’re full of shit, dude. Hurry up and annihilate me, then, if you’re so great.” You leaned back, shoulder brushing my own, and jerked your head toward Rolf’s waiting controller. “Double D, do you want to play? I don’t have another headset, but…”

I shook my head to stop you there. “No, no. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Ha! Impose!” Rolf snatched one of the two spare controllers sitting on the coffee table and tossed it to me. I caught it with some fumbling and looked to the farmer’s son for explanation. “You can be on my team. You don’t need a headset. Rolf will instruct you. Onward!”

You shrugged and unpaused the game. I pressed the center button to turn my controller on, twisting it in my hands as I waited. I was unsure--not about the video game, mind. Ed, Eddy, and I often play video games together--and hesitant to let myself participate so easily, as if I’d always belonged there. In my hesitation, my character took a bullet to the head and Rolf growled in annoyance.

“Keep up, Ed-boy!”

“Top screen,” you said softly, and I gratefully directed my attention to my character. For one blissful hour I enjoyed myself. You were surprised by my skill in the game; Rolf was much more concerned with his victories. I believe you would have been irritated as the Red Team beat the Blue Team over and over again had you not already been amused at my participation at all. Alas, it was not to last. I’m not sure what I expected, but I should have seen it coming.

“ _Princess_!” came a roar from the cul-de-sac in a voice that was all too familiar to me. I flinched, making my best attempt at disappearing into the couch. You heard--everyone heard--and, giving me a curious look, you reached overhead to pull the living room curtain aside. I sank down to avoid being seen, tugging at the well-worn end of my spare hat.

“Double D?”

I shook my head at you. I’m sure there was wild fear in my eyes. This was not how this was supposed to play out. I’d expected more time to distance myself before cutting ties with this man, but I was stupid not to realize that he would come looking for me.

“You can’t hide from me!” Terry shouted, though he sounded further away. I hoped he was moving away from the cul-de-sac, but as his ravings continued it became apparent that he was simply circling, yelling half-threats at each house as he passed.

Rolf bristled, rising to his feet, and you didn’t look far behind. You asked if ‘princess’ meant me, and all I could manage was a weak nod. It was all you needed; the two of you were out the door in a flash. I followed behind quickly. This was my problem, not yours. Once in your front yard I took the lead, pushing past you before slowing to a stop, arms held out to stop you and Rolf on either side of me. I swallowed thickly, knees knocking and hands trembling, but before anyone could say anything my dear short friend emerged from his house in a rage.

“Bro! What the fuck? Are you drunk?” Eddy shouted, waving his hands about in the air.

Terry rounded on him. “What’s it to you, pipsqueak?”

“You’re my brother, asshole! It’s embarrassing for _me_ to have you out here screaming your head off. I have my reputation to worry about, you know!”

I could practically feel you roll your eyes beside me, but my amusement was short lived. Terry scoffed at his brother and turned around to face me. Surprise lit his eyes as they met mine, and then anger.

“What the hell?” he said, taking a step toward me.

“Terry--” I pleaded.

You didn’t give me a chance to finish, pulling me behind you. “Listen, man, we kicked your ass once, we can do it again.”

“The only ass you kicked was Jonny’s!” Eddy interrupted.

“Can it, dork! My point still stands. Leave Double D alone!”

Terry sneered at you and another wave of fear washed over me. What would he do to you who so boldly stood up for me? Out of the corner of my eye I watched Ed’s door open and he, Sarah, and Jimmy move cautiously onto the sidewalk. When they recognized the source of the commotion, Jimmy clutched at Sarah’s arm and Ed charged right up to take his place beside a very confused Eddy.

“Double D? What’s Sockhead got to do with this?” He looked back and forth between me and Terry, his mind whirring away to make the connection. “You mean… _he’s_ ‘princess’?! He’s the chick you’ve been dating for like a year?”

“I knew you had a brain in that tiny skull somewhere,” Terry drawled, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Dee?” he asked, turning to me. The betrayal was written all over his face, and I could hardly stand it. I managed an apologetic shrug, willing the ground to open up and swallow me. “What the--no, it doesn’t matter. This ends here, Bro. Leave him alone or I’ll make you.”

“Yeah? You and what army?”

“This army,” you said, taking a step forward. Rolf nodded, stepping with you, and from across the cul-de-sac Ed, Eddy, Sarah, and even Jimmy rose up in my defense. It was touching. Even now thinking of it brings a tear to my eye. My friends stood and stared him down, just as you all had years before at the amusement park, and though for a moment he stared right back, it was only a few moments before he backed down.

“Whatever.”

With that sullen parting, he turned and headed back to Eddy’s house. When the door closed behind him, I could breathe again. In a flash you were by my side, a firm hand resting on my shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Yes, Kevin. Thank you. I’m fine.”

Eddy stepped around you and wrapped a hand around my arm. “Good, ‘cause you have a lot of explaining to do.”

With an apologetic half-smile, I let Eddy drag me away from you back to my own house. The conversation we had was not a pleasant one, not that I expected it to be. He was understandably angry and we were both rather upset. But we got over it. Best friends tend to do that, at least as far as I’ve observed. We moved on. For a few days neither he nor Ed would let me out of their sight, but eventually those protective instincts faded, returned to normal. I saw not a single sign of Terry for two weeks, and I finally let myself relax.

Finally, I was free.

Summer training began and it found me and you both in high spirits. Again we were friends, this time without fears and uncertainties hanging over our heads. You were free to ask me how you did between drills and I was free to admire your physique when you weren’t looking. Yes, I admit it: admire I did. That month flew by, bringing with it the new school year. The first day back was something glorious, and not just for myself. For our whole group there seemed to be a feeling of buzzing excitement; it was our senior year, after all. It was the time for getting serious and goofing off, tidying up our adolescent lives and throwing caution to the wind, and with this air of recklessness you asked me to the back-to-school dance as your date.

I was shocked. Me? You wanted _me_ as your date? Surely there had been a mistake, but with a laugh you assured me there hadn’t been. Eagerly I accepted your offer.

“Choice,” you responded casually, a smile lifting one side of your mouth. “Pick you up Friday at seven? Or do you want to, I dunno, grab dinner first or something?”

“Dinner sounds lovely, actually.”

“Right, so five, then. I mean, I’ll see you before then, but I know you like your plans.” The bell rang to usher us to class and you raised a hand in farewell. “Later, Double D!”

The night of the dance you knocked on my door exactly at five o’ clock. I still remember what you were wearing: dark jeans, a Peach Creek High School varsity t-shirt, and a lovely plaid button-down shirt with the sleeves pushed up. I suddenly felt overdressed in my sweater vest, but you didn’t give me a chance to dwell on it. You looked me up and down, grinned, and reached for my hand.

We took your beat-up little car to the downtown diner only to find it practically overflowing with high school students.

“Damn,” you said, your hand at the back of your neck. “Guess I should’ve seen this coming, huh. I don’t have a backup plan…”

“Well, I do know of a place, but I’m not sure how suited it is to your tastes.”

“Try me?”

We walked down the street to the lovely vegetarian restaurant I discovered with my parents one summer. You looked about as hesitant as I’d expected, but my raving review won you over in the end. I had a light salad, feeling my nerves begin to get the best of me, and you tried your palate on a tofu burger.

“How is it?” I asked between bites of baby spinach.

“Well…” You gave a half-shrug. “It’s not beef, but it’s not bad either.”

I’m almost positive you were simply trying to avoid hurting my feelings, but I appreciated the effort nonetheless. You paid for our meals, waving off my protests, and we were off. Our night--dare I say date?--was going splendidly. I had high hopes for the dance.

I should have known better.

We arrived just after seven, hand in hand and smiling to shame the Mona Lisa. You found Rolf and Nazz almost immediately, and they accepted my presence happily. The four of us danced for several songs--well, you three danced and I swayed as best I could. When a slow song began, Rolf made a beeline for the snack table and Nazz was instantly snatched up by some hopeful bachelor. I both feared and hoped you would ask me to dance. I knew how to dance to this sort of music, but oh, my palms were perspiring. We stood in awkward silence for a brief moment, and just as you opened your mouth to speak my cell phone rang. You snapped your mouth shut and I made a face by way of apology before threading my way through the crowd toward the gymnasium doors. Once out in the quiet, I answered.

“Hello?”

“Dee, are you at the dance? Please say no.”

“Eddy, what are you talking about? Of course I’m at the dance. I told you I would be.”

“Fuck. Okay, listen. You need to get Shovelchin and get the hell out of there. Go get ice cream or suck face in a field or something.”

“Eddy!” I flushed. “How crude! We are doing no such thing--”

“Shut up, Sockhead, I’m serious! My brother’s looking for Kevin!”

My stomach dropped. “Wh…what?”

“Look, we tried to stop him, and we’re on our way, but--”

I hung up. I didn’t need to hear anything else. I spun and dove back into the gym, looking around wildly for you. I spotted you against the wall behind the punch table, but so did Terry. Across the gym from me, I saw him enter and zero in on you, squinting his eyes like a bull that has found its target. I ran toward you, desperately trying to get your attention.

“Kevin!” I shouted to be heard over the music. “We have to go! Right now!”

You pushed off from the wall to meet me, brow furrowing in confusion. “What? Why?”

But it was too late. Terry tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned he landed a hit across your jaw. A girl screamed and a circle formed around the two of you as people backed out of the way. I broke through and threw myself in between you, hands extended to keep you from each other.

“Terry, stop! Leave him alone!”

He looked at me only once, a look of complete and utter disdain, before shoving me out of the way. You snarled and lunged. The next few hits were yours, but he was quick to recover and respond in kind. I watched your lip split, his breath get knocked from him, and a variety of bruises bloom on both of you as I pleaded desperately for you to stop fighting. I finally managed to fit myself between you again, just in time to intercept a hard jab to the midriff. I doubled over coughing, and suddenly the entire gym was quiet and still save for your heavy breathing. On one side of the circle a couple of enraged teachers broke through; on the other, my dearest friends, thoroughly out of breath.

Terry stared at me, eyes wide and panicky. “Shit,” he muttered. “Princess…”

“My name…” I said, straightening and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. “…is Edd.”

He blinked and I believe I saw something shift in his eyes. A moment later he was gone, the gymnasium doors slamming shut behind him.

A flurry of questions and first aid prevented you and I from having much contact for the rest of the evening. The police were called, a brief explanation given, and then you drove me home in silence. When I started to apologize, you hushed me with a sharp look. At my front door you left me with a kiss to the cheek and a promise to see me later.

That was four months ago. Since that night there have been no more dances, no more dates, but there have been stolen kisses, held hands, comfortable silences shared with knowing looks. Even now, sitting on your couch with a book as you play your video games, there is hardly any space between us. In a few minutes when I work up the courage to move my leg over yours, you won’t protest. Your ears might even get red at the tips. Tonight we’ll watch a movie and miss the second half of the plot, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and I’ll get to taste your lips again.

Taking it slow is what you called it.

I like it.


End file.
